This Tangled TARDIS
by funtime vash
Summary: A trap, within a trap, within a trap, within a trap. Can even four Doctors break free from an enemy determined to unravel their timelines, turning their very existence into a paradox? Featuring Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Fitz Kreiner, Jack Harkness, River Song, and Rose Tyler. Part 1 of the Fitzverse. Het/slash
1. Chapter 1: That Was Tense

Inspired by the incredible Eight Doctor short and the upcoming 50th anniversary, I am posting the Fitzverse, a series of stories featuring various incarnations of the Doctor and the complicated life of his longest companion, Fitz Kreiner. A couple years back, I posted a series of stories based around the compelling Eighth Doctor companion Fitz Kreiner, a guitarist, a romantic, a drinker, a smoker, and a bit of a loser. Seeing Paul McGann's brilliant performance has inspired me to make some significant revisions to match current canon and share the whole story from the start with all of you.

Draws heavily from the Eight Doctor Adventures novels, but reading them is definitely not required.

* * *

**Chapter 1: That Was Tense**

"I've always liked red suns," the Doctor said a little too casually, trying to act normal as River held his hand.

"No you don't," River Song replied, not quite succeeding in keeping a wry grin off her face. "They remind you of blood. And vampires. You're just trying to act casual because we've been holding hands for 15 minutes straight and you're still young enough to be so easily flustered at the very thought of me."

"I... What... You don't know what you're talking about!" the Doctor stammered, absolutely flustered and at a complete loss as to how to extricate his hand without feeling like a complete idiot.

A picnic. On Asgard. Surrounded by iridescent butterflies and moss-covered ruins, under a yellow sky filled with three blue moons.

It was driving him mad. She always liked to stand a little too close, with her wolfish smiles and winks and promises of so much adventure ahead of them.

"Don't worry, sweetie. Feel free to let go of my hand anytime you like. Or to hold on to any other part of me that might take your fancy instead."

She slipped from his grasp and headed toward the TARDIS.

"Coming?" she asked, and he heard her turning her key in the lock. Her key? When had he given her a key?

He adjusted his bow tie and dashed in after her.

"Where to next?" he said, still feeling giddy, practically skipping up the stairs to the console.

"I needed a ride, remember?" River said, setting coordinates. "It's why I called you in the first place?"

"But..." he started, crestfallen. "But you only just got here. I mean, Rory and Amy will be on their honeymoon for, well, for as long as we need them to be. I do have a time machine. Girls still dig time machines, right?"

River laughed. He loved her laugh.

"Next time, my love. I remember it well. But I'm afraid I really must be going."

She pulled the dematerialization lever as he joined her at the console, shoulders slumping.

"Don't pout," she said, and gave him a quick pinch on the cheek.

He refused to be embarrassed by the wide grin he felt creeping across his face.

Then the familiar wheezing of the TARDIS's departure suddenly turned into the familiar wheezing of the TARDIS's arrival. River's eyes widened. The Doctor spun around behind him, in time to see a police box fade into existence on the third floor landing in the console room.

* * *

Fitz woke in his bed. Unfortunately alone. He stretched, then curled back under the covers, sighing in defeat. The low blaze in the fireplace crackled merrily, leaving his room warm and cozy. Leaving seemed like such a bother.

He and the Doctor had been up late, reading. They'd spent all day running around the fabulous centennial book bazaar of Alpha Tuan 3 sometime in the 45th century, perusing a city full of ancient texts from around the universe that put even the TARDIS library to shame. Not ordinarily his idea of a good time, but considering they'd spent the previous week jamming with David Bowie and Brian Eno, not to mention shagging their way through every glam rocker and pretty little groupie who happened to take their fancy, he was hardly in a position to complain about their recent adventures.

And besides, he loved seeing the Doctor excited, wearing that boyish smile and running around, laughing, full of enthusiasm. Dragging him by the hand from stall to stall to gush excitedly about this original first edition textbook or that journal by some famous dead bloke he'd never heard of.

Thinking about the Doctor made him smile as he snuggled under the blankets. He couldn't remember how late they'd stayed reading through the lovely haul of books they'd acquired at the bazaar, but Fitz had finally given up trying to tempt him for a shag and left for bed. If he knew the Doctor, he was probably still at it, sitting in his armchair, listening to records. His nose in some forgotten journal.

Fitz yawned, then forced himself out of bed. He took a piss, brushed his teeth, and washed his face. Looking in the mirror, he wondered whether to shave, or not. Well, his stubble wasn't too bad yet. Made him look cool, a bit rebellious. Fitz Kreiner, intergalactic man of mystery. He splashed on some Old Spice and gave himself a little wink.

After getting dressed, he stopped by the galley to make some tea. Milky Earl Grey for him, and Lapsang souchong with a dab of honey, just how the Doctor liked it. Fitz found him in console room, open book on his lap, dozing in the armchair. Exactly as he expected. The overhead holographic projection of Alpha Tuan's pink morning sky let him know they hadn't traveled anywhere in the night.

Fitz put the mugs down on the little table with the tiffany lamp and sat on the edge of the armchair. He stroked the Doctor's cheek.

The Doctor gave a pleasant little moan and curled into his touch. "Morning, you," he said without opening his eyes, a fond smile crossing his face.

"Hope it was a good book," Fitz said. He began to pull his hand away, but the Doctor held it, placing a delicate kiss on his fingers before releasing him and jumping to his feet. Knocking Fitz to the floor in the process. Nice.

The Doctor laughed and pulled Fitz up with an apologetic little shrug. "Right," the Doctor said suddenly, already distracted as he practically skipped over to the console. "How would you like to have breakfast at the best diner the American 1950s has to offer?!"

Fitz chuckled, then drained his tea in a single gulp before responding. "Fab. I could go for some grits. Never had grits, but they're American, right?"

With a giggle, the Doctor nodded and started dancing around the console, setting coordinates. "Yes Fitz, grits are considered American cuisine. Grits and coffee and hash browns and all sorts of delightfully non-British things. But first, was that tea I smelled?"

"You are correct, sir," Fitz replied in an exaggerated posh accent.

He brought it to the Doctor as the TARDIS began to dematerialize. He loved that sound. It reminded him of adventure, of mystery and danger and lovely girls with blue skin on distant alien planets, like the stories he used to read as a lonely German kid during World War II, in between getting the shit kicked out of him by his fellow students.

Yeah, but look at him now, traveling the universe, visiting the stars he used to glimpse with wonder during the air raid blackouts. The life he'd left behind in 1963 at the age of 27 seemed forever away, and he had no intention of ever going back.

The Doctor took the tea from him with a grateful smile, then choked on it as the sound of dematerialization suddenly shifted to the other end of the spectrum. A very familiar blue box suddenly appeared in a dim corner of the console room.

"Bloody hell," Fitz muttered.

* * *

Jack finished resoldering the last of the wires and slid out from under the console.

"How are the readings now?" he asked, standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Fantastic," the Doctor said. He looked up from the console with a grin.

"You look much better when you smile," Jack teased, sidling up next to him. "Kind of a rugged sort of handsome."

"Yeah, well, we can't all be pretty boys, can we? Not everyone gets by on their looks. Been there, done that before."

"Hey, I'll have you know my gorgeous looks are just one of the many tools available in my arsenal," Jack said with mild affront.

The Doctor chuckled, "Now that I can believe. Shall we take her for a test run?"

"Sounds like my idea of a good time."

The Doctor adjusted the settings and the TARDIS started to dematerialize. It was all still new to Jack. New, and very exciting. The TARDIS was a class act all the way. It made his vortex manipulator feel like a carved stone wheel in comparison. Now this was definitely the way to travel through time.

"Something's wrong," the Doctor said suddenly, scowling.

"I'll say," Jack said, pointing to the blue box materializing near the back of the console room. "That's not supposed to happen, is it?"

The Doctor's frown deepened. "No it isn't."

The wheezing, grating noise finally stopped and the TARDIS stood tall, firmly solid, seemingly in defiance of all logic.

"Where's Rose?" the Doctor demanded.

"Watching EastEnders in the library, I think she said."

"I've got to find her," he said, turning toward the interior doors. "If we're stuck in a recursive time loop, the interior of the TARDIS could completely destabalize."

Jack began to follow, but the Doctor stopped and turned to face him. "No. Stay here. We don't know who, or what, might be coming out of that thing."

Just then, the outer door swung open, and a slender man dressed in dark slacks, a silver waistcoat, and a long velvet jacket stepped out. Absolutely beautiful, with long golden brown hair and melancholic blue-green eyes. His aristocratic features made Jack think of some lost Byronic poet.

"Oh no, not you," the Doctor said with disgust.

"Hello!" the new arrival said, smiling as he stepped up to meet them.

A taller, slightly gangly man wearing tight black drainpipe jeans and a red t-shirt followed close behind. He had wide grey eyes framed with long lashes, a delicate face that contrasted nicely with his dark, unkempt hair and coarse stubble.

"I'm the Doctor, and this is Fitz," the shorter man said, extending a handshake.

"I know who you are," the Doctor spat.

"But how-" Jack began.

"Regeneration," the Doctor said, still refusing to take the other man's hand.

"He's the Eighth, and I'm the Ninth."

"Yes, well, pleasure to make your acquaintance," the Eighth Doctor replied archly, pouting as he stuffed his hands in his pocket.

"Hey, wait a minute, that's my jacket!" Fitz interjected, pointing. "Not the one I'm wearing now, I mean obviously, I'm not wearing a jacket..."

Fitz trailed off, embarrassed.

"Yeah, it is your jacket," the Ninth Doctor said, tearing his eyes away from the Eighth Doctor to finally look at Fitz. He suddenly smiled, and it was like the sun shining through a storm cloud. "It's good see you again, Fitz," the Ninth Doctor said.

"So it's true," Jack said in awe. "I'd heard the rumors that Time Lords were practically immortal, that they could change bodies, but I'd never believed it."

"Yes, well the rumors about Time Lords have the unfortunate habit of being far too close to reality," the Eighth Doctor said, keeping a wary eye on Nine. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced."

Jack extended a hand and gave him his most charming grin. "Hello there. I'm Captain Jack Harkness."

"Look, we don't have time for this," the Ninth Doctor snarled. "While you lot stand around chatting, Rose could be trapped, or hurt."

"I'm so sorry," Eight said with genuine concern. "I didn't realize there was anyone else on board. Yes, of course, you're right. If the TARDIS architecture has been affected, then she could be in very real danger."

"I'm gonna find Rose," Nine said gruffly, and glared at Eight before continuing. "You. You're coming with me. I'm not letting you out of my sight. Jack, check what's happening inside the other TARDIS. See if there's a way out."

"Fitz, go with him," Eight said, then began to count off on his fingers. "Now let's see. Keep an eye out for a crotchety old man, a short fellow with a mop of black hair, a tall dandy dressed in velvet, a wild-eyed bohemian with a long scarf, an exceedingly polite blond dressed in Edwardian cricket gear, and a small slightly sinister man who may or may not be wearing a jumper covered in question marks. Tell them you're friends of theirs and they'll help you."

He stopped and waggled his fingers for a moment. "Am I missing anyone? Oh, right. If you run across a curly haired man who looks like a clown vomited all over his clothes, avoid him at all costs."

"Is he dangerous?" Fitz asked nervously.

"No. But I do find him exceedingly annoying."

"Finished with your charming little speech?" Nine growled. "Cause I'm sick of hearing you babble. Come on if you're coming."

"All right!" the Eight Doctor snapped, whirling around to face him. "There is absolutely no reason to be so utterly unpleasant."

Nine stepped up to him, and for a moment Jack tensed. He'd seen that look in the Ninth Doctor's eyes before, and it normally meant the person on the receiving end was about to regret ever meeting him. To his credit, Eight glared back, just as fiercely, his dark expression transforming his pretty features into something cold and dangerous.

"I have plenty of reasons," the Ninth Doctor said, his voice icy with menace. Then he turned and walked away.

Eight sighed, seemingly overcome by melancholy.

"It's all right," Fitz said and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Don't let him get to you. And good luck, Doctor."

Eight smiled fondly at Fitz, if not cheerful, then at least reassured. "Thank you. See you soon, Fitz."

"You better," Fitz said and gave him a quick hug.

Then the Eighth Doctor hurried along through the interior door, Fitz's gaze lingering after him.

"Wow," Jack said with a little nervous laugh. "That was tense."

"Yeah, wonder what that was all about," Fitz said with a little frown.

"Sooo..." Jack said as casually as possible as they walked across the console room to the other TARDIS. "You two sleeping together?"

Fitz blushed.

* * *

There's much more excitement and drama ahead. But first some end notes.

Where are all of these characters in their respective timelines?

Nine and Jack, and Rose, are a few months after The Doctor Dances, but before Boom Town. Everything is still new to Jack, but he and Nine have really bonded and he's quite taken with both the Doctor and Rose.

Eight and Fitz are between Parallel 59 and Shadows of Avalon. All you have to know is that Fitz and Eight have been traveling together a couple of years now, and many crazy things have happened to both of them. They've already been firmly established as best friends, and Fitz would go on to become the Doctor's longest serving continuous companion, from 1999-2005. Oh yeah, and canonically, Fitz is the first guy the Doctor kisses, all the way back in 1999! Boy did I squeal when I read that book...

However, if you like insane adventures, epic levels of angst, breaking all the rules of the Doctor Who universe, and a beautiful, tragic friendship that survives all sorts of catastrophe and ruin, not to mention the inspiration for the Time War and probably the closest you'll ever get to seeing how it really could have happened, then seriously consider reading this book series. It's like reading professional fan fiction, and I mean that in the absolute best way possible. A lot of the writers here went on to work for Big Finish or to write the New Series Adventures with 9, 10, and 11, so it's a very talented group.

Oh, and if you're wondering what Fitz looks like? He was perfectly played in a Big Finish audio by the gorgeous Matt Di Angelo of Hustle/EastEnders fame.

But anyway, enough gushing! I'll have a new chapter up before you know it.


	2. Chapter 2: Care for an Adventure?

Hope you're enjoying it so far! The Eighth Doctor fandom is a tiny corner of the universe, but I hope that will change now that more people got a chance to see how wonderful Paul McGann truly is. For those of you who don't know Fitz, you are in for a treat. He's beautifully flawed, tragically complicated, funny, sweet, and charming. I've done my best to capture that. This particular story takes place long before the last great Time War, the John Hurt's territory, and is set not long before the first Time War, which takes place in the book series and involves Eight destroying Galifrey, because the Eighth Doctor did everything first, trust me, haha. I've tried to make it so the events in the books unfold as part of Fitz's past and his character development, so no need to read the books. However, if you have any continuity questions, just ask in the comments and I'll be sure to reply.

* * *

Chapter 2: Care for an Adventure?

* * *

Fitz placed a hand on the TARDIS at the far edge of the console room. He could feel her humming, sense her warm, comforting presence just at the edge of his mind, as always.

"Hey, love," he said reverently. "Been a long time for you, hasn't it?"

"You two close?" Jack teased as he grabbed some sort of futuristic blaster.

"Yeah, we are," Fitz said in a real serious tone.

He and the TARDIS were linked in ways he couldn't fully understand, much less explain. He tried his best not to dwell on it. Actually, he tried his best to shove any and all thoughts about the consequences of that particularly horrible misadventure out of his mind at all costs.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, searching for his key.

"What's that?" Jack asked as he pulled it out.

"My key," Fitz replied. He held it up for Jack to see.

"That's not what the key to the TARDIS looks like," Jack argued. "Rose and the Doctor both have keys, and they look nothing like that."

"Still don't have one, eh?" Fitz said with a grin, dangling the spade-shaped silver pendant key in front of Jack. "Must be new, then."

"I've only been traveling with the Doctor a few weeks," Jack grudgingly admitted. "You?"

"Years, mate," Fitz said, sounding smug and wistful. "Years."

He winked at Jack, then slid the cover off the lock.

Jack's eyes widened in surprise. "It's not supposed to do that!"

Fitz smiled, then slipped his key in the wide slot hidden underneath the seemingly normal Yale lock. It turned smoothly. "Just need to have the magic touch, that's all."

They stepped through, into a console room practically identical to the one they just came from, save for a brown coat slung over one of the curved pillars and a tall fellow dashing about the console talking to himself and pulling at his spiky hair in frustration.

"What? What?! What..." the other man stammered, staring at them with wild, mad eyes.

* * *

"Doctor, these readings. They don't make any sense."

"We're nowhere, River Song," the Doctor said, then broke into a grin. "Isn't that exciting?"

"If we've materialized inside our own TARDIS, we could conceivably blast a hole through the vortex that would be felt for light years," River said, staring at her scanner and frowning. "Across three star systems, to be precise. Three very populated star systems."

"Yes, well, there's that. Of course," he said, suddenly feeling cross. "If that's really what you want to focus on. But that's only if the TARDISes displace each other. And just because that's the TARDIS, doesn't mean it's _this_ TARDIS."

"You're right," River placed a hand on the blue box. "She's younger. I can tell."

"I remember her," he said more seriously. "I was in my eighth incarnation when I she looked like this."

She slipped her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. "Difficult times. I know."

The Doctor sighed. "Yeah, well, no point waiting around here with the outer doors jammed shut. Care for an adventure?"

"Always," she said with a playful wink.

The Doctor unlocked the door and stepped inside. Right into a gothic castle. He sighed. "Candles. What was I thinking?"

"Oh, I like it. It's very mysterious."

"You would," he said with a grin, heading straight for the TARDIS parked in the console room. "But just for fun, let's see where this random blue box will take us!"

They stepped through the TARDIS and ran right into Rose Tyler. She stood at the edge of the console room, dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top. And pink wooly socks.

"What's going on?" she asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "Hey, wait a minute. What are you doing here?"

"Rose Tyler, I need you to believe me right now. For the next, what, 12 hours, River?"

She frowned into her scanner. "If that."

"For the next 12 hours, I need you to believe me otherwise, um, oh, I don't know, I can't think of a metaphor!"

"Hello, Rose. I'm River Song. And this is the Doctor."

* * *

"I said, be quiet!" the Ninth Doctor stormed.

"All, right, I know, I'm sorry," he said, waving his hands in agitation. "You're worried, I get that. I get it."

They walked in awkward silence. The Eighth Doctor kept his hands in his pockets. He bit his lip. He tried desperately not to hum. He lasted all of 158 seconds.

"So this is the coral," he said brightly, desperately. "I've wondered. It's very organic."

The Eighth Doctor ran his hands along the walls, racing a little bit ahead. "It's so alive. I bet the old girl loves it."

"Shut up!" Nine said. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk to you. I don't need your fake cheerfulness. Or your stupid ditz talk. And especially not your broken little boy act, all right? You're here because I don't trust you."

"I see," the Eighth Doctor said, crestfallen.

"There? That right there? You're doing it again, and I don't want any part of it."

Eight put his hands in his pockets.

He lasted another 78 seconds.

"So how far is the library from here? We've been walking awhile. Or maybe it just feels like it."

Nine put his hand against the wall a few feet ahead. "I think I made a wrong turn."

"Or the TARDIS has shifted its internal configuration."

"I was just about to say that," Nine said crossly.

"Hmm..." Eight said, stroking his upper lip. "We should head back to the console room. We could scan for her from there."

"Oh, and leave her behind? Yeah, you were always good at that, just leaving things behind. Broken people, ruined lives, devastation and genocide in your wake."

The Eighth Doctor sighed and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Look, I know, I've made mistakes, all right? I will continue to make mistakes. In perpetuity, across the universe, blah blah blah. I have that much figured out, at least. I know that. But what do you want me to do about it? I've always had the best intentions."

"You're a coward," he growled, his voice trembling with anger. "You make the same mistakes, again and again, and then hope to either die, or forget. Oh, except that one time where you were so afraid of dying you shredded your own timeline to get away. Because humans captured you. You couldn't escape from stupid apes?!"

Eight blushed, and didn't know what to say.

"Where are you?" Nine spat.

"Traveling alone, with Fitz. Our friend Compassion is taking a little holiday on Earth, exploring her humanity."

Nine leaned against the wall and laughed, with a broken, slightly hysterical edge. "Oh, you have no idea," he said, clutching his sides as his body was wracked with cruel, cold laughter. When he looked up, his icy blue eyes gleamed in the golden light of the hallway.

The Eighth Doctor put his hand to his forehead and began pacing. "So tell me, then. How am I supposed to fix this? You think I don't know that things are coming to a head? That I can't sense the TARDIS's trepidation? I know exactly what I'm avoiding, I think, but I don't know what to do about it. So yes, fine, I'm a coward. I'm just such a terribly irresponsible Time Lord, aren't? Sold away my memories, altered my own history, let terrible things happen to Fitz. All of that, yes. I admit it."

He stopped and faced nine again, arms crossed, raising his voice. "And? What am I supposed to do about it? Tell me how to fix it."

"Fix it?" The Ninth Doctor straightened up in front of him, clenching and unclenching his fists. "This? This is your honeymoon. Your halcyon days in paradise. Enjoy it while you can. Trust me, it all goes downhill from here. I will be ashamed of what you let the Doctor become for the rest of my lives."

For one long second, Eight met his gaze. Then he looked away. "So tell me, then. Tell me what I did," he whispered, defeated.

He could hear Nine's breathing growing rapid, practically taste the nervous energy coming from the other man's body in waves. Yet Eight only felt a strange sort of numbness.

"I'm the only one left," Nine said, and the Eighth Doctor glanced up to see tears trailing down his face.

His eyes widened, and his hearts began to race, two little hummingbirds fluttering away in his chest. "But you can't mean..."

"Oh perfect, things aren't disastrous enough without you having to add another paradox on top of it. That's just wonderful. I'm the Eleventh Doctor, by the way." Eleven leaned against the corner at a turn in the corridor, glaring at Nine. "And yes, Rose is fine. I've sent her and River ahead to my TARDIS to fix up a couple of gizmos as part of my complicated plan to save all our lives."


	3. Chapter 3: Horror the Soul of the Plot

**Chapter 3: Horror the Soul of the Plot**

* * *

"Fitz!" he said, laughing. "And Jack. Not just Jack, Jack Classic! Oh, this is brilliant!"

A huge dopey grin spread across his face as he dashed over to them, all of his frustrations seemingly forgotten. Yeah, this skinny bloke in a suit was definitely the Doctor, Fitz decided. He'd seen that mad, boyish glint in his Doctor's eyes too many times.

"The Doctor, I presume?" Fitz said in a playful accent.

The Doctor hugged both of them at once, still laughing. He smelled of cloves and cinnamon, so different from the Eighth Doctor, who always reminded Fitz of honey, and rainy days. This Doctor was tall, gangly, almost painfully thin as he held Fitz and Jack tightly against him, but he seemed to have the same nervous energy. The same easy affection. It felt pretty good.

"What are you lot doing here?" he asked as he pulled back to study them, keeping a hand on each shoulder.

"So you're the Doctor too?" Jack asked. "Quite a foxy regeneration, I must say."

"Jack," the Doctor said as a playful sort of reprimand, still grinning like an idiot. "So predictable. Oh, but you're still so young! Just a _kid_."

"Come on, I'm not _THAT_ young," Jack said, chuckling.

"Yeah, you are," the Doctor said, his grin slipping just a fraction, his eyes suddenly grim.

Fitz recognized that look. He'd seen it many times. It meant the Doctor knew things, terrible things, too terrible to share. Fitz glanced over at Jack, full of sympathy, but his new friend was still too new to recognize the telltale signs of the Doctor's false smiles.

"So which one are you?" Fitz asked.

"Oh, how rude! We haven't been introduced. I'm the Tenth Doctor," he said, and spun around with a little flourish. "Ta da!"

Fitz laughed. 'Nice to know you've got a long life ahead of you."

The Tenth Doctor's smile practically vanished, so that you never would have known it was there. "Very long."

Fitz felt suddenly afraid for the Doctor, a protective sort of fear. Whatever dark future the Doctor had in store for him, he resolved himself to do anything he could to prevent it.

"Aw, don't look so sad, Fitz," the Tenth Doctor said with concern as he gave his shoulder a squeeze.

He forced himself to smile, but knew he wasn't ever any good at fooling the Doctor. Ten sighed, then walked over to the console, Jack and Fitz close behind.

"Well..." Ten began, staring at what Fitz recognized as Gallifreyan symbols dancing across an old monitor. "It's obvious I've materialized inside one of your TARDISes, I take it?"

"Mine," Jack said, and Ten gave him a sideways glance. "Ok, right, the Ninth Doctor's."

"How many of me are there?" Ten asked as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm here with the Eighth Doctor, the Ninth Doctor's TARDIS is inside ours, and you're inside of his," Fitz said, leaning over to look at the screen.

"Oh, so when it comes to Fitz, it's suddenly 'ours,'" Jack teased, actually sounding a little jealous now.

"He's right," Ten said simply. "Which means, somewhere inside my TARDIS is the end of what could be a conceivably endless loop of timey-wimey stuff. And it's absolutely unstable."

"I hope they found Rose," Jack muttered.

"What do you mean? She's not with the Ninth Doctor?"

"They went to find her, and sent us off to explore," Jack replied.

"Why didn't you tell me?! The interior of the TARDIS is starting to merge. Anything could happen to her!"

He dropped to his knees and yanked up the metal grate under Fitz's feet, shooing him away as he dropped the top half of his body inside. He dug around frantically, pulling out all sorts of crazy stuff Fitz couldn't even begin to figure out.

Then he grabbed a brass disc with silver bits sticking out, and a mess of wires with some crazy complicated circuitry, and somehow stuck them all together with a futuristic version of the sonic screwdriver. He held it out in front of both of them, his hand moving from one to the other as though trying to decide before handing it over to Jack. "Jack! Let me see your vortex manipulator."

Jack held out his hand, giving Fitz a wink. Fitz suddenly felt like a loser.

The Tenth Doctor waved his sonic screwdriver over what looked like Jack's complicated wristwatch. "I need you to find the TARDIS, you should be able to track it now, and attach that interdimensional destabilizer to the outside. Then come straight back here. Got it?"

"Sure thing, Doctor," Fitz said, trying to look professional about it. "We can handle it."

Ten smiled at him fondly. "Fitz, you can handle just about anything. More than I ever could. I remember."

"And just what will you be doing while we're off destabilizing the dimensions?" Jack asked as he stuck the device in his back pocket.

"Rescuing Rose, of course!" The Tenth Doctor called back, already dashing out the door.

* * *

"This is your fault, isn't it?" the Ninth Doctor growled, scowling at Eight, who had taken on that look of numb melancholy he'd so perfected in that incarnation. "Just another aftereffect of your own personal feud against the laws of causality."

"That's enough," Eleven said tersely, watching as Eight began to back away.

"You practically kill everyone you ever cared about, you realize that, right?" Nine bellowed. "But that's nothing. That's just for starters. You are personally responsible for the death of every Time Lord in the universe. More than once."

"We're _all_ responsible!" Eleven shouted, disgusted with himself, and so weary of reliving the same sins again and again. "Every single one of us!"

He stood defiantly in front of the Ninth Doctor, silently hoping Eight would slink off to sulk. He could talk to him later. Try to explain, somehow. The choices Eight made, the warrior Eight would choose to become…

The Ninth Doctor was so young, still so raw. He hadn't gained the distance Eleven had, the distance that sometimes made him feel so very cold he barely recognized himself.

"We're all the same, Doctor," Eleven said after taking a deep breath. "Don't ever forget that. I know you want to, I know it's easier to think of him as someone else. But you know what was at stake."

"Why did it have to be us?" Nine asked quietly.

"Because there was no one else to do it."

* * *

"So you never actually answered my question," Jack said as they walked.

"Which question was that?" Fitz replied absently, staring around at the brass-walled corridor.

"Are you two sleeping together?"

Fitz froze, narrowing his eyes. "What's it to you, mate?" he said in a challenging tone.

Jack gave him a charming smile. "Just wondering what my chances were."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Fitz said, raising his hands. "I'm not into blokes, all right."

Jack stared at him, still smiling.

"Just him," Fitz admitted quietly. "_Mostly_ him."

"So there have been exceptions?" Jack said, his grin growing wider.

Fitz gave him a wry smile. "Here and there."

"Anybody I'd know?"

"David Bowie."

Jack's mouth dropped open. "No way. You've had sex David Bowie."

"We both have," Fitz said with a smirk, stuffing his hands in his pockets and continuing to walk down the corridor.

Jack stared after him for a moment, utterly envious. He jogged to catch up with Fitz, burning with curiosity, and frankly, more than a little turned on by the conversation. The idea of a sexy young Doctor shagging his way through time and space with his pretty cockney boyfriend seemed incredibly appealing to him.

"So, are you two exclusive?" Jack asked as he caught up.

"Flattered, mate, honestly, but you're not really my type," Fitz said, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"It wasn't _you_ I was asking about," Jack said, his grin turning predatory.

"When are you from?" Fitz asked suddenly, turning to face him with a frown.

"The 51st century," Jack replied.

"Right," Fitz said, nodding as if that explained everything. Maybe it did, if he was as well traveled as he implied.

"You?" Jack asked.

"I met the Doctor in London in 1963, but I consider myself a citizen of the universe," he said with pride.

"I'm sure you do," Jack said, glancing down at the flashing indicator of his vortex manipulator to make sure they were still heading the right way.

They walked in silence for a few moments before Fitz spoke again.

"The Doctor and I have... an understanding," Fitz said out of nowhere.

"Really?" Jack asked, dying to ask him so many questions. "Because he seems like the jealous type to me."

Fitz shrugged. "Maybe yours is. But, see, I'm just not... _good_ at that sort of thing."

"You mean you can't keep it in your pants."

Fitz laughed. "Yeah, something like that. Got a hell of a weakness for the pretty girls."

Jack liked his laugh. He liked Fitz, he realized. A lot. He had a sudden fantasy of switching TARDISes, of heading off with Fitz and his pretty, romantic Doctor for a change. He was still the Doctor, after all. Still the same man he hated to admit he'd been falling in love with since the moment they met. But he would never want to leave Rose, and he got the impression that his Doctor needed somebody like Jack around at the moment. He realized he didn't want to let him down. He looked up to his Doctor. And besides, Fitz might have an eye for the pretty girls, but it had been obvious to Jack right away that the Eighth Doctor only had eyes for Fitz.

"What was that?" Fitz said nervously, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder to stop him.

"What was what?" Jack asked, glancing around.

Fitz put a finger to his lips, suddenly very serious as he crept up to a junction in the corridor, his back against the wall. He silently motioned Fitz to follow. Fitz seemed to have transformed into a different person. Not professional, exactly, but competent, experienced, the adrenaline giving him a familiar sort of intense focus. Jack could believe this was a man who'd stared death in the face too many times to be afraid of it. Kind of reminded him of a couple of Time Agents he had worked with. Especially one, who he'd once spent a few years in a time loop with. Now _that_ had been one complicated relationship he wished he could forget.

Jack kneeled beside Fitz, aiming his sonic blaster as he looked around the corner, tense and excited. And then he saw her. A pale woman with long white hair. Drifting. Insubstantial. Her flowing white gown didn't touch the floor as she hovered just a few centimeters off the ground. She turned to them, reaching out a hand, her face twisted into a soundless scream.

Fitz stepped into the corridor, his hands out in front of him as though approaching a wild animal.

"What are you doing?" Jack hissed, edging around the corner with the blaster pointed straight ahead.

"We're not gonna hurt you, love," Fitz said, his voice calm. "I promise, we just want to help."

She stared up towards the ceiling, mouthed a few silent words, then seemed to multiply, spreading into four different identical parts. Behind her transparent forms, the corridor shattered and reformed into a shapeless swirl of color. She screamed again, twisting and hugging herself tightly as her multiple versions were drawn back into her, until she seem almost solid. Then she shattered like glass, the jagged pieces of her crumbling, vanishing into thin air. The corridor where they stood had suddenly come to an abrupt end at a green field, with a bright blue sky, a few scattered trees, and distant hills on the horizon.

Fitz walked forward, wearing a perplexed frown.

"Fitz!" Jack shouted.

"I know this room," he said with wonder, spreading his arms wide.

A cloud of butterflies descended upon him, landing his head, his arms, his shoulders. He turned around, a wide smile on his face as a few butterflies drifted onto his cheeks. He looked calm, content. Absolutely beautiful.

"Welcome to my place, mate," Fitz said as Jack stepped into the wide, expansive space. "I'm home."

* * *

The Eighth Doctor wandered, numb and empty. Unable to feel anything else. He was lost. He barely remembered slinking away from his future incarnations in a sort of blind panic. Running from his own future. Like a coward. Pathetic.

Never cruel, never cowardly. Weren't those the principles he'd always striven for? The only rules he'd ever lived by?

Had he really fallen so far that those words no longer applied to him? Or worse, were the mistakes he'd made so far truly just a prelude to the horrors that awaited him?

Horrors like the woman in black slipping into a familiar door at the end of the corridor, wearing a terrible death mask of bone.

He followed her, finding himself in his own cloister room, in his own TARDIS. A weird, low, warped sort of toiling came from the bell, as though someone was trying to silence the TARDIS's screams.

She stood waiting for him, a smile creeping from between the jaws of whatever nightmare creature she'd stolen that skull from.

"Yes, of course," the Eight Doctor said, resigned. "You. I was expecting you, I think. Expecting this. It always seems to come back to you lot in this lifetime, doesn't it? 'Through a circle that ever returneth in to the self-same spot, and much of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot,' as that lovely lunatic Edgar once wrote."

She stepped up to him and stroked his face.

"Don't touch me," he spat, but he found himself unable to move. "Don't you _dare_ touch me!"

"But we already have," she said, and her voice was like ash, and death.

She raised her left hand, wearing a gauntlet of slim, dangerous needles. A biodata extractor.

"No, no, no, not again," the Eighth Doctor said, as she stroked the edge of the gantlet of needles against his face. "No memories to sell, thank you. Not this time."

"Wasn't it worth it last time?" she said, and she pressed close.

He didn't respond, but he knew the answer. He might have lost Fitz otherwise, years ago, as San Francisco threatened to dissolve into paradox.

"You can't have me," he said in a harsh whisper. "You never will."

"But we already do have you, body and soul, past and future," she said with a giggle, and scraped the needles across his cheek.

He suddenly tasted cigarettes. Felt Fitz tensing in his grip, unsure how to respond as the Doctor kissed him with relief and unexpected delight. For the very first time. In Sweden, so very long ago, it seemed. He pushed her roughly, staggering away from her, suddenly free from the terrifying paralysis that had overcome his body from the moment she first touched him.

Like he had many times before, he ran away.

* * *

Time for some endnotes!

Ok, where is Ten? He's right after The Next Doctor, so he's a bit on the cheerful side. Isn't quite as haunted as he will be in Waters of Mars and beyond, and is basically trying to ignore his growing sense of loneliness.

As far as any references to the past, I've tried to do what the new series does, and just give distant ambiguous allusions that won't mean anything if you don't know, but will make you smile if you do. The butterfly room is from the EDAs, a real room they use all the time, which is lovely. And Eight's memory of his first kiss with Fitz? Totally canon! I didn't make it up! Fitz Kreiner has a beautifully complicated life. If you're interested in some of the details, check out his entertaining entry in the Eighth Doctor TV Tropes page!


	4. Chapter 4: More Than I Can Deal With

Chapter 4: More Than I Can Deal With

* * *

Fitz loved the butterfly room. Always had, always would. He had memories, dreams, fantasies, and possible alternate realities of experience with this room.

"That's my favorite tree," he said, pointing, giddy with relief. Nothing bad had ever happened to him in this room. Not one bloody thing.

"This is part of your TARDIS?"

"Yeah. The Doctor and I have picnics here. He plays the violin sometimes. I play the guitar."

"That sounds incredibly sexy. You know that, right? Are you sure you're not trying to flirt with me?"

"I know how hard it is to resist the charms of Fitz Kreiner," he said, laughing as they reached the broad tree with the door in it.

"This place is incredible, Fitz. It's like Alice in Wonderland."

"That's what happens when you try to do six impossible thinks before breakfast," Fitz said, pausing at the door, pretty much afraid to open it and break the spell. "We haven't had breakfast yet. Not sure I mentioned that. We were about to. I was gonna have grits, and eggs, and bacon. Hey, you're American, I bet you've had grits before."

Jack laughed. "I'm not American. But I have had grits. They're an acquired taste, one which I never managed to acquire."

Fitz shrugged and pulled out a cigarette.

"What, are you taking a smoke break?" Jack asked incredulously.

"And?" he said, taking his first delicious drag of the day.

"Aren't we in the middle of a reconnaissance mission?"

"I just," he took another deep, sweet lungful, his chest filling with warm smoke, then exhaled slowly before continuing. "I'm just trying to keep it together, ok, mate?"

Jack leaned against the tree and crossed his arms. "I thought you were the experienced adventurer here, familiar with the dangerous whims of Time Lord technology."

"I'm scared, all right?" he said between drags, his voice trembling as he went on. "Ever met a Time Lord? Pretentious gits, the lot of them. Pretentious, all-powerful gods that we mere mortals can't possibly understand. And the Doctor? He's a rock star. He's the Elvis Presley of time travel. The secret rulers of the universe consider the Doctor this famous rebel outlaw. The worst of them, the best of them, and everything in between. They have legends about the Doctor, you know. On planets you've never heard of, millennia from now. Let's just say he's been around. He's done some bad stuff. Fine, whatever. I don't care about that. But my Doctor scares the living shit out of yours. My own Doctor, the one I share my life with. So what does that mean for me, huh? For either of us. I bloody love him, all right, I'd die for him, and just now this is all a little more than I can deal with."

He threw the cigarette butt to the ground and stamped on it, then shoved his hands in his pockets. Attempting to look defiant.

And then Jack kissed him. Very gently, on the lips. Just a whisper of a touch. Fitz couldn't help but kiss him back.

"Be careful, Jack," Fitz whispered, as he gratefully accepted Jack's hug afterwards. "He doesn't mean to, he never means to, but the people around him. They get hurt."

Jack pulled away and opened the door. "I've been hurt before, Fitz. I think I can handle it."

"Terrible things have happened to me, Jack," Fitz said softly as they left the comforting safety of the Butterfly Room. "Shit I never could have imagined. That you wouldn't want to imagine. I've lost everyone and everything I've ever cared about. Except him."

He didn't meet Jack's gaze as they walked down the gray stone corridor to the console room. He tried not to think about much of anything. Especially not what might lie ahead for Jack. Or for himself. Or for anyone, really, because there was enough crazy shit ahead to go around these days. In this life, at least.

Feeling edgy, Fitz tensed as the heavy doors swung open in front of him, leading to the gothic cathedral that was the console room. A few bats drifted overhead.

"Wow, retro," Jack said, looking around.

The holographic roof was dark, making it seem like the room stretched off into the infinite. The candlelight flickered more than normal.

"Doctor?" Fitz called out, walking around. "Are you in here?"

They made their way to the familiar wooden console at the center of the room. Fitz almost tripped over the Doctor, tucked underneath.

"Doctor, what are you doing down there?" Fitz asked. He and Jack exchanged worried glances at the Eighth Doctor's lost little boy expression as they crouched down beside him.

"I'm hiding," he said softly.

"Hiding from what?" Fitz asked, glancing around nervously.

"Lots of things," the Doctor said, a numb, distant look in his bright blue-green eyes that Fitz recognized as the tail end of a crying jag. "Inevitable things. Pain, fear, death. Genocide and bloodshed. Loneliness, despair, and guilt. So much guilt..."

Fitz sighed, and took the Eighth Doctor's hand. "What happened?"

The Doctor cupped Fitz's face gently, staring through him to some distant past, or future. "It's my fault, Fitz. All of it. What they did to you. What they will do. What they're doing to us now. It's my fault we're trapped."

"Trapped?" Jack asked. "Trapped by who?"

"The Faction," he whispered, and Fitz felt his heart race. "Yes, they terrify you, don't they Fitz? As well they should, considering what I let them do to you. And to myself. Now the TARDIS is as tangled as my timeline, thanks to them. And what will be and could be and has been are just fantasies that can be forgotten. Erased. Rewritten. Moored on a tempestuous storm of possibilities far removed from the Web of Time."

"You're scaring me, Doctor," Fitz said, his voice shaking.

"I'm scaring myself," he replied, releasing Fitz to hug his knees tight against his chest.

"Tell your Doctor I'm sorry, Jack. Tell him he was right. That this is my fault, will be my fault. Always was my fault. Tell him the Faction Paradox is loose in the TARDIS."

* * *

Jack hurried along to Nine's TARDIS, but found the console room still empty. He stepped through to the interior and began running down the corridor, hoping to find him, but realizing it was a difficult task to find someone in the labyrinth of the TARDIS in the best of times. With the architecture now almost constantly shifting, his chances were next to nothing.

Jack was not a man who panicked easily. Ever since he'd looked into the eyes of his dead father as a child, death had not frightened him. He almost looked forward to it sometimes, just another adventure. Like pain was just another sensation, not that different from pleasure, really, and best enjoyed at the same time. And when you took away pain and death, what was there really to be frightened of?

But Faction Paradox. They terrified him. A horror story told to new Time Agents to frighten them out of their wits. A monstrous cult he'd thought thankfully purged from the universe a long time ago. If the Time Lords were considered long lost gods among time sensitive races, and in his time humans were certainly considered that, then the Faction Paradox was a nightmare breed of demons spoken of only in whispers in certain dark corners of the galaxy. Anyone could kill you, and the Time Lords, when they'd been the secret rulers of the timelines, could erase you from existence. That at least was something you could comprehend, you could wrap your head around. That was nothing compared to what the Faction could do to you.

The Faction specialized in tearing the timelines to shreds just for fun. Perverting the laws of time. Paradox as a voodoo religion, as a game, as a trap you couldn't escape from. Time machines that ran on blood, on pure biodata, on draining the energy from creating copy after copy after copy of a person. On a whim, forcing anyone of any species, of any time period, into joining their sick little Family. Stories hinted of the power they once had to twist the pasts of people, of entire civilizations, until they were monsters, killers, sick parodies of what they had once been, sometimes without them even knowing, other times out in the open so they had no one to blame but themselves. They'd send you back in time to kill yourself as a child, trapping you in an eternal time loop of repeating death, or turn you into everything you hated only to send you back to confront yourself as an innocent. The stories he'd heard chilled his blood.

And what could they have already done to poor Fitz? To the Doctor? The emotional wreck they'd found shivering under the TARDIS console seemed utterly removed from the beautiful bohemian romantic he'd first met just hours ago. If they could do that to the Doctor, what could they do to him? Or Rose?

Jack picked up his pace, determined to find the Ninth Doctor and warn him. But if even Time Lords feared the Faction, what chance did they have of escaping?

* * *

Fitz was more than used to the Doctor's mercurial moods by now, but it worried him that they'd gotten more frequent. Ever since Sam left. Or maybe it was just him, and he wasn't as good at dealing with them as she had been.

He'd never asked her when he had the chance. Too late now, of course. Never even got to say goodbye.

The Doctor clutched at him like a drowning man as Fitz rubbed his back and made little shushing sounds. It was cramped under the console. He wished the Doctor would just cry and get it over with. It was the silent brooding that always creeped him out. That always seemed to last the longest. Hours. Days, sometimes.

They didn't have time for this.

"Come on Doctor," he said whispered, his mouth close to the Doctor's ear as he hugged him tight. "Can't stay down here all day."

"Why not?" the Eighth Doctor said, sounding cross and petulant. "My TARDIS, I can do whatever I like."

Fitz chuckled. "That's true."

The Doctor looked up at him a moment, bright eyes gleaming in the dark. Then he kissed Fitz, pressing cool, velvety lips urgently against his. Fitz melted into his touch gratefully, as always. Kissing he could understand. It was something real, something normal. Most of the time Fitz couldn't figure out half of what the hell the Doctor was talking about. Ok, more than half. He let the Doctor worry about the details and just stumbled along the best he could. But Fitz was good at this. Good at making the Doctor, his Doctor, feel better. And he liked that. Besides, the Doctor was a great kisser.

After a few long, wonderful minutes, the Doctor pulled away and stood up. He reached out to help Fitz up, then clapped his hands together with finality.

"Right," he said, suddenly brisk. "That's quite enough of that. Things to do, nightmare voodoo cults to defeat, and so forth."

"You're such a tease," Fitz said, all smiles.

"I know. Infuriating, aren't I?"

"Yeah well, I'm used to it," Fitz said with a shrug.

The Eighth Doctor took Fitz's hands for a moment and kissed them, then gave him a fragile smile. "Thank you," the Doctor said softly.

"Listen, Doctor," Fitz began nervously, hating to add to his problems at the moment but knowing this was important.

"Something happened to me and Jack. We found a ghost, a woman in white. Screaming. And then everything went to hell, the corridor got all... squishy. Like some crazy acid trip or something. And now there's a hallway to another TARDIS floating around here somewhere."

The Doctor frowned. "Show me."

* * *

More endnotes:  
Ok, for those of you wondering who the heck this crazy Time Lord voodoo sect is. One of the cool things about the EDAs are the big villain arcs, and Faction Paradox are this creepy mysterious cult that show up again and again, predicting crazy things that may or may not come true. As they do here...


	5. Chapter 5: The Suffering Fitz Endured

**Chapter 5: The Suffering Fitz Endured **

* * *

The Eleventh Doctor heard Ten's frantic voice calls for Rose. He sighed with relief. Since Eight snuck away, the Ninth Doctor had been silent, brooding, as usual. At least Ten was chatty. He liked chatty. Well, most of the time, at least, and right now he could use a good chat. Cause he had absolutely no idea how to get back to the console room, and he was going to need all of their help to get themselves out of this mess.

"Ah," the Tenth Doctor said as he turned the corner, wearing a frown. "My replacement, I take it."

"Number 11," he said and straightened his bow tie.

"I've got a while, left, believe me," Ten said bitterly.

"Traveling alone?"

Ten nodded.

"Before or after River..."

Ten sighed and put his hands in his pockets.

"Right, fine, not important. What is important is that the architecture is getting dangerously unstable, and River is stringing together a whole mess of interdimensional destabilizers for us to hook into our respective TARDISes. TARDISi? No, TARDISes is better, more traditional."

"But none of that will work unless we find your TARDIS, right?"

"Yeah," Eleven said, then grinned. "Which is somewhere in yours?"

"Fitz and Jack are looking for it. With a little interdimensional destabilizer I put together myself, thank you."

"Oh, wonderful! Those two can figure out anything. Rose is fine, by the way, she's with River in the console room. My console room, I should specify. You should see it. Very sexy. Not Rose and River in the console room, though I suppose if they start flirting it could technically be considered sexy, no, I'm talking about the new layout. It's like a steampunk submarine. I'm very happy with it."

"Tell me you don't talk as much as he does," Nine said to Ten in an exasperated tone.

"Weeeell, actually, I'm pretty sure I talk even more, I think I talk even more than Eight, but far be it from me to interrupt a good technobabble intermixed with some nice sexual tension," Ten said, and grinned.

"Is it me, or did this place used to be bigger?" Jack said, panting as he reached them.

"Jack, these are two idiots," Nine said, and smiled for the first time in ages. "Just ignore them and you'll be fine."

Jack leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath as he spoke. "We've met. One of them at least. Did you find Rose?"

"She's fine," Eleven said, cross that he'd had to tell this same story so many times. "She's with River. You haven't met yet. Well, Rose you've met, but River—"

"Enough!" Nine finally shouted. "I've had it with your cheerful banter. The TARDIS is falling apart and all you've done so far is talk about it."

"Hey!" Ten and Eleven said together, both frowning.

"However bad you think it is," Jack said, finally slowing his panicked breathing, "it's worse."

* * *

The Eighth Doctor held Fitz's warm, calloused hand as they left the console room. There was something so safe, so comforting, in that small gesture. Fitz gave him a reassuring smile as they entered the familiar corridor, took the familiar route to the butterfly room, one of their favorite places in the whole universe.

He couldn't recall a relationship ever feeling so natural before. What they felt for each other was just so... uncomplicated. While everything else in his life was a tangle of confusion and contradictions, Fitz was simple. Ever loyal, always dependable, caring and supportive. Funny and courageous, sensual, affectionate. And Fitz never blamed him, never confronted him about his mistakes, or failures, or the suffering Fitz endured because of him. He didn't want to imagine a life without him, didn't want to think about the fact that one day sweet, silly Fitz would leave, just like everybody else.

Because everybody left, in the end. One way or another.

"Something's wrong," Fitz said nervously, tightening his grip on the Doctor's hand.

"Yes, I can hear," Eight said. "There, at the edges of what's audible. Is that screaming?"

"Yeah, actually, I meant the bloody great wall that's suddenly blocking our way."

"Oh, that," the Eight Doctor said, placing a hand against it. It was brilliant white, with roundels at regular intervals. The classic TARDIS look.

"What's wrong, old girl?" the Doctor asked softly. "Actually, yes, I know what's wrong in a general sense, but I need some specifics."

"It's not her screaming, Doctor," Fitz said, placing his own hand on the wall. "I know it's not."

"You might be right."

"It's that lady in white, isn't it? Who is she?"

"You know, I'm not quite sure," he said, and then suddenly they'd fallen into the white wall, as the corridor seemed to tilt and stretch off into the distance.

"What the hell-" Fitz began, then shouted as he began to slip, as the corridor moved once again.

Up was down, everything twisted, shifting, the corridor coiling into a tunnel straight into nothingness, and they were being pulled into it. A strange wailing filled the air for a moment, not quite human, but definitely not a sound the TARDIS had ever made. The Doctor gripped Fitz's hand as he fell, his left hand catching on the narrow edge of one of the roundels by his fingertips. He screamed in pain as three fingernails tore free with a splash of crimson on white, but he held on.

"Don't let go, Fitz," he shouted, feeling Fitz's hand, slick with nervous sweat, begin to slide from his grip. "Please don't let go."

"You can't hold on to both of us," Fitz said, his voice trembling as he dangled over the white abyss, but his soft grey eyes, locked on to the Doctor, full of grim determination. "You know it."

"Don't say that," he begged, but it was true. His fingertips were wet with blood, and they were slipping.

"Good luck, Doctor," Fitz said, and let go.

"Fitz!" the Eighth Doctor screamed, reaching out for him.

The gravity suddenly shifted, and he could see Fitz slam into the wall, his frightened shouts instantly silenced as he tumbled bonelessly down the suddenly endless corridor, splatters of blood trailing after him.

"Give him back! Oh please, please, please give him back," he pleaded, while trying to keep himself from slipping away into the seemingly bottomless tunnel.

Fitz only plummeted further. The Eighth Doctor took a deep breath to slow his thundering hearts, then leapt after him. Only to fall face first into a glassy black floor.

"No..." he moaned, dazed, turning his head to the side, feeling blood drip from his nose.

"No, no no!" he sobbed. "It's all my fault. Oh, Fitz, I'm so sorry. Please take care of him, old girl. Keep him safe. Please."

He lay on the floor for a few long minutes, his hand pressed against the glossy black surface, as though trying to sense Fitz's presence on the other side of the barrier. But Fitz was gone.


	6. Chapter 6: Unraveling Around Him

Warning! May contain dreamy Time Lord dream sex! So a bit on the explicit side...

* * *

**This Tangled TARDIS Chapter 5: The Suffering Fitz Endured**

* * *

It felt like being trapped in a well. A square well, with walls of black glass. Far, far above, a single shaft of light illuminated his prison. The Eighth Doctor wondered absently how long it would take him to starve. He wouldn't last long enough to find out, he expected. Not with this tangled TARDIS unraveling around him.

He clutched his knees to his chest, feeling utterly empty. Devoid of tears, of hope, even the usual burst of panic he always felt when confined in this incarnation. Just a cold sort of nothingness. He hadn't even bothered to wipe the blood from his nose. It had crusted up and began starting to itch.

The woman in white appeared to him slowly, a vision, mouthing silent words he couldn't hear. He felt no fear, no surprise. There was nothing left for him to feel.

"Hello there," he said softly. "Come to take me away?"

She reached out for him, beckoning him, and he stood up and walked toward her, palms out stretched, feeling like some sort of martyr.

"Go ahead," he began in a casual tone, but was shouting by the end, shocked at his vehemence. "I'm afraid I just don't care any more. Maybe it's better this way. End things before I go too far, eh? Well? Go on then!"

And he was surprised to find himself seething. Angry. Finally feeling things again. But his emotions were a maelstrom of fear, rage, and despair, and he wished for numbness once more. "It only goes downhill for me, right? So what's the point? What's the point of caring, of trying to make things better, when it all ends in death and destruction anyway?!"

The woman simply looked at him, so sadly. He realized there was nothing evil about her, nothing wicked, not so far as mortals like him could understand.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "You're trapped, aren't you? Just as trapped as I am, as we all are."

He reached out to touch her face, but his hand went straight through. Her face twisted in a silent scream, and she shattered.

Just as Fitz had described.

Fitz. He tried very hard not to think about Fitz. Instead, he sat down cross-legged in the center of his glass prison, in a Gallifreyan lotus position, palms spread outward on his knees as though in supplication. He closed his eyes and let his consciousness drift, trying to sense her, this lost soul wandering through the TARDIS, trapped and alone. There, at the edge of his psychic awareness, he sensed an immense power, caught between the past and future, spread across the near infinite internal dimensions of not one TARDIS, but four.

"Hello," said a voice that reminded him of death.

He opened his eyes and stood up to face her.

"Hello again," he replied quietly.

* * *

As they split up, each determined to find the exterior of the Eleventh Doctor's TARDIS before it was too late, they heard a weeping scream, a long howl of pain that made his hearts race.

"That's probably not good," the Eleventh Doctor said, stopping in his tracks.

The Nine, Ten, and Jack stopped and looked back at him as one.

"That's what we heard before the hallway shattered around us and we ended up in the Eighth Doctor's TARDIS," Jack said.

"What the hell has he gotten us into," Nine growled. "I'll kill him."

"Oh yes, wonderful idea," Eleven said crossly. "Go ahead, kill yourself in the past. That'll certainly prevent any future paradoxes."

"All right, you lot," Ten said, raising his hands in exasperation. "No more arguing between the pair of you. I can't bear arguments. Let's just agree that this reality is about to unravel around us, probably unmaking our entire existence if we don't stop it in, what? Six hours? Let's say six hours."

"I don't agree to that!" Jack replied, sounding alarmed.

* * *

Fitz knew he was dreaming, because reality normally involved more than floating naked in an endless eternity of white. For the most part.

But his Doctor was with him, so at least it wasn't a nightmare. Fitz felt the Doctor's creamy satin skin against his own, his lover's delicate, slender body pressing close urgentlt. That cool, soft mouth against his neck, nuzzling him tenderly.

He felt the Doctor grasping him tightly with his preternatural strength, squeezing him close, probably leaving bruises. It wouldn't be the first time. And Fitz was thrusting against him. The Doctor gasped, tensing in Fitz's arms for a moment, arching his back as his blue-green eyes clouded. And then the Doctor poured into his mind as Fitz slipped inside of him completely, with practiced ease. Fitz left himself utterly open, exposed, no secrets, no barriers. As always, he belonged to the Doctor, body and soul. He hoped it would be like this between them forever, or at least however long they had left.

Fitz began thrusting harder, each feeling the other's pleasure multiplied again and again as their sensations merged into one. In between muttered snatches of beautiful, musical Gallifreyan, the Doctor kept repeating Fitz's name like a mantra, as their bodies moved together. Being with the Doctor was like nothing else he'd ever experienced, a beautiful dance of the physical and the mystical, taking and being taken all at once. Enveloped in the Doctor's presence, the smell of rain and the taste of honey, the thrilling feel of such a vast, mysterious mind intertwined with his.

This was heaven, Fitz thought idly. Not that he believed in heaven. But if he did believe in heaven, he hoped it would be something like this. Then everything began to dissolve around him, the Doctor fading in his arms.

Of course. Nothing good ever lasted. Not for him.

"Fitz."

The first thing he was aware of was the scent of leather. And of throbbing pain.

"Come on, Fitz. Time to wake up."

"Oh, my aching head," Fitz muttered. "I've got a bastard behind the eyes."

"It's all right," the Ninth Doctor said, his gruff voice surprisingly tender. "Just hit your head. You'll be fine."

Fitz found himself being held by the Ninth Doctor as Jack wiped the blood away. He hissed with pain as Jack touched the edge of the jagged gash above his ear.

"What happened?" Fitz asked, dazed and aching everywhere.

"You fell," Jack replied, and pointed up, where a wide white square led up into a seemingly infinite white. The hole was rapidly closing, shrinking back into the grey grating that covered the rest of the ceiling.

"The question is, where did you fall from?" Nine asked, shooing Jack away and taking the handkerchief to finish off the job himself. There was a smear of blood on his black leather jacket, as though he'd been cradling Fitz's head against his chest.

Fitz told them his story, everything except the dream, of course. They exchanged worried glances throughout.

"That settles it," Nine said when it was over. "It's too dangerous for you two here. Jack, take Fitz to Eleven's TARDIS. Give this River Song the readings you took from the breach. And I'll need that destabilizer."

"Yes, sir," Jack said. He handed Nine that weird device the Tenth Doctor had given them and helped Fitz to his feet.

He stood, swaying for a moment, then collapsed. The Ninth Doctor caught him, and helped him sit down, leaning him against the wall.

"Sorry," Fitz muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Just need a minute."

"We don't have time," Nine said a little harshly. "The breaches are getting worse, and we still haven't found where Eleven parked his TARDIS yet."

"it's fine," Fitz said, struggling to his feet again.

"Good luck," Nine said, already starting to walk away.

Fitz had to stop him, had to ask. Had to know.

"Wait!" he called out.

Nine turned back, looking cross.

"So, um, all this terrible shit my Doctor's gonna do... Is there anything I could have done, can do, to make things better?" Fitz asked, all in a rush before he lost his nerve.

The Ninth Doctor actually chuckled. "Fitz, you've done that already. You will do. You were a friend to me and more when no one else would have me, loyal when everyone else betrayed me, and I never treated you half as well as you deserve for all the kindness you showed me."

"That's not true," Fitz said softly. "I was nothing before I met you."

"Don't say that," Nine snapped, then sighed and took Fitz's hand. "There's plenty of people who I made better. I know that. But you? Fitz, you made me better. You never blamed me, even when you should have. Even when I blamed myself. And you were sweet, funny, and a hell of a guitar player long before I met you. I had nothing to do with it."

"Aw, thanks, Doctor," Fitz said in a slightly squeaky voice, really touched to hear this rough and distant Doctor speak so kindly of him. Cause Fitz knew the Doctor was a thousand years old when they'd first met, knew he'd had countless friends and lovers across all of time and space. And despite how certain he was that the Doctor, his Doctor, cared for him deeply, Fitz sometimes worried that at the end of the day he was just a blip, a passing fancy soon forgotten. Fitz felt a surge of relief to know he was more to him than that.


	7. Chapter 7: A Song You Can't Remember

Chapter 7: A Song You Can't Remember

* * *

The Eighth Doctor refused to back away as she approached him. Refused to let any fear show on his face, to feel anything but calm and numb and empty.

He crossed his arms and pursed his lips, waiting for her to speak. The silence stretched between them. He hated her cold, calculating smile, hated that her eyes were hidden by that cruel demonic mask. Hated that she was here at all, that this was all part of the infinite consequences of his many mistakes and failures. But he would face his own nightmares or die trying. Maybe he was a coward, in this lifetime at least, but he would face his demons on his own.

Finally he couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"So..." he began, casually, playfully. "I never quite understand why you lot are so fascinated with me. I would have thought you'd have had enough of Time Lords after that Morbius nonsense. I defeated him, by the way. Did you know that? So why are you so convinced I won't beat you as well?"

"You won't defeat us, you'll join us," she said reverently. "You will be the greatest one of us."

"Never," he hissed.

"But you're a paradox already. Even your own past is a contradiction. I don't think you know yourself which part of it is true."

"I know enough," he said firmly as she stepped closer to him, her black gown trailing behind her.

"Mmmm..." she raised her gauntlet of needles and studied it. "I would dearly like to have your biodata. Just a little, you understand. As a memento. My Family would treasure it always."

"Who is she?" he demanded.

"Oh, a great force, a cosmic power, one you've come across before. We've trapped her as a favor, a bargain with another. And we always keep our bargains, you remember that, don't you?"

"Which force?"

"Why would it matter?" she asked, cupping his face tenderly in her cold, dead hand. "You're just as trapped as she is. And you know what it would cost you to escape. But it's only you who matters to us. I'll tell you who she is, how to stop all of this, if only you'll agree. I'll even let you choose which one."

Could he do it again? Sell another part of himself? Because the Faction didn't deal in memories. They dealt in history. Trade a memory to them, and they unmade reality around you so that it never happened. You never have any idea of what you'd forgotten. But he'd done it before, to save Fitz.

He nodded.

Once again he felt the needles scraping his skin, and he remembered Fitz, trembling in his arms, weeping, begging the Doctor to make him feel real. So he'd kissed him, in the cool grass of the butterfly room at night, under a blanket of simulated stars. A kiss that became something more, both of them desperately reassuring each other with their bodies. Making love for the first time.

"No, no, not that one," he whispered, shuddering. "Not that one."

And she laughed, a cold, desolate sound that echoed off the glassy walls of his prison.

"Why him?" he hissed. "Fitz will never be yours."

"He already is, always was. He's joined us willingly. As you have, without even realizing it."

"You're lying," he said, voice trembling. "He never would."

"Like you'd never sell us another memory?" She scraped the needles against him once again.

He and Sam and Fitz were having a picnic at the edge of a pink ocean, giggly with sweet German wine, a golden liebfraumilch he'd picked up in the 1900s. They were full, relaxing on the sand. Fitz strumming his guitar, looking happy. And he started playing a beautiful, plaintive song about a lonely sailor traveling through the heavens, visiting the stars. Fitz's smoky voice drifted across the beach, blending with the sound of the waves. He'd finally finished it, that simple little melody Fitz had been working on for months transformed into something so incredibly touching it almost moved the Doctor to tears. He fell in love with him then, just a little.

"All right," the Doctor muttered, unable to stop shivering. "That one."

She slid the needles into the side of his neck. He twitched once, then went limp in her arms.

When it was over, and he was alone, he stood up and placed a blood-splattered hand on a door he'd never noticed before. A few notes of music floated in his head, an unfinished song he couldn't place, didn't recognize. But he began to hum it all the same, as he made his escape.

* * *

The lights flickered for a moment, and Fitz grabbed his head, hissing with pain for a moment. Jack reached out to support him, but Fitz brushed him off.

"I'm fine," Fitz muttered. "Fine."

"What happened?"

He shrugged. "Not sure. Except..."

Jack looked into Fitz's grey eyes with concern.

"It's like I've forgotten something," he finally said. "Like a song you can't remember. Maybe I just never finished writing it..."

Jack put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's all right. You took a hell of a blow to the head."

Fitz gave him a weak smile. "No, I think it's something worse than that. Doesn't matter anyway. Let's go."

He tried not to think about it, tried not to think about what it meant that somehow he sensed part of his past had been clipped away. Or what that might mean for his own Doctor, who he'd last seen reaching out for Fitz as he fell, screaming his name. Tried not to think about whatever lay in store for Jack, or for him, or for anyone. He was good at not thinking about things. He had to be, or he was pretty convinced he would have long ago gone as bloody mad as his poor mum before she died. And that was still one more thing he tried not to think about.

He wanted a cigarette really, really bad.

"Are you sure you're ok, Fitz?" Jack asked, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as they reached the TARDIS standing in his own familiar console room.

"No," Fitz snapped. "No, I'm bloody not ok. But there's nothing I can do about that, is there?"

Jack hugged him, and he was grateful for it. Until Jack got a hard-on.

Fitz laughed and pushed him playfully away. "Time and a place, mate. Time and a place."

"Maybe later, then?" Jack winked at him as Fitz unlocked the door.

It was a gorgeous console room, all brass and metal and glass, though it had nothing on his own TARDIS. There were two lovely birds waiting inside, a young blonde girl, just teenager, really, and an older woman with a roguish glint in her hazel eyes that Fitz found instantly attractive.

"Rose!" Jack shouted with glee, spinning the blonde girl around in a huge hug. "We've been looking all over for you."

"I'm fine, Jack," Rose said, releasing him with a broad smile. "Been enjoying some girl chat."

"Hey, baby. I'm Fitz," he said, shaking her hand. "Don't worry, we'll get this all sorted out."

Rose laughed at him unkindly, "Oh my God, Jack. What cockney hellhole did you drag this one from?"

Jack chuckled. "The Doctor's boy toy from 1963."

Rose practically doubled over in laughter.

"You know, I'm standing right here, mate," Fitz said, genuinely hurt. "And anyway, I didn't mean we as in us blokes, I know you birds hate that. I meant, like, the royal we. All of us."

"I don't think that's what the term 'royal we' refers to," said woman with curly hair and a pretty little smirk as she took his hand. "Fitz Kreiner. I'm River Song. heard a lot about you. All good things, I promise. The Doctor thinks quite highly of you."

"He does?" Fitz said, sounding surprised. "I mean, yeah, course he does. He'd be lost without me to keep him out of trouble."

She squeezed his hand in both of hers and suddenly looked a little sad.

The sympathetic look in her eyes made Fitz nervous. He cleared his throat and took his hand back. "So what have you ladies been up to?"

* * *

I made up the first memory, and the picnic, but that unfinished song Fitz wrote that gets stuck in the Doctor's head for years and years? Totally a real song from the books that will play a big role in an upcoming story.


	8. Chapter 8: Having Fun?

Hope you're enjoying it so far! This fic is nearly over, just two chapters and an epilogue left, but I'll be posting the next one right after. It's a bit of a crossover with David Tennant's Casanova, and generally quite randy, so there's that to look forward to. (^_~)

* * *

**Chapter 8: Having Fun?**

* * *

"So... River, what's she like?" Ten asked, absently attempting to unlock the giant padlock that had appeared across the double doors of the wardrobe room.

Eleven checked the readings on his sonic screwdriver.

"My TARDIS should be in there, I think," he replied.

Ten scoffed. "You said that in the library."

The padlock popped open.

"It's good," Eleven said quickly, pushing open the doors. "_She's_ good. She's great, actually."

He kept walking ahead, leaving the other Doctor behind, trying to think. He had half a plan, less than half a plan, and no real idea how to fill in the missing bits. So yeah, the usual.

But what he couldn't deal with was angst. And trying to remember about what it felt like to think about River all the way back then was definitely not the way to stay on track.

"You trust her to compensate for the breeches on her end and push back the separation until we've activated all of the destabilizers?"

"Yeah," the Eleventh Doctor replied.

"Have you told her yet?" Ten asked, as they both waved their screwdrivers around, following the build up of artron energy that indicated either his TARDIS's exterior shell, or a possibly devastating breech that could conceivable pull apart every atom in their bodies. Either way, really.

"I think I materialized with the coats," Eleven replied.

He climber the spiral staircase to the third level, Ten close behind.

"I haven't told her my name yet," Eleven said absently, peering through a giant rack of coats and checking his readings. "But I trust her. No matter what she's done…"

The Tenth Doctor turned to stare at him. "What did she do?" he asked cautiously.

Eleven looked at him with a wry smile. "Spoilers."

"Oh brilliant, now she's got me doing it. You. Us."

"One floor up?" Eleven asked, pointing his screwdriver at the ceiling.

As they made their way up the spiral staircase, Eleven glanced back at him, could see the curiosity eating away at him, and also a streak of resentful envy. He could remember the feeling, knowing that while his tenth incarnation dealt with the grief, it was Eleven who would enjoy the adventures, the picnics... Despite his best efforts, he felt a smile creeping across his face.

"So she's worth it?" Ten said in a grim tone.

Eleven stopped and turned around completely, standing a couple steps above Ten. "Everybody dies, Doctor. You know that."

"Oh, of course," Ten spat. "It's just that simple. People die, for me, because of me, again and again and again, they break my heart again and again, but yeah, it's all worth it."

He leaned closer to Ten, almost touching him, unable to keep the challenging tone from his voice. "It's always worth it. You can't be trusted, I can't be trusted, not without people to care about. Because it's too much. All of it. Too much power, too much knowledge. Too easy to ignore our own rules without someone to stop us. So yeah, it hurts. Yeah, everyone leaves, everyone dies, and I just keep running. Never looking back. Because the alternative is becoming like the Master, or the Monk, or Rassilon, drifting through a universe where we can only see the ugliness. Because without love, that's all that's left for us."

Ten looked away, eyes shining, but said nothing.

Eleven cupped his face, drawing his gaze. "It gets better. I promise. _You_ get better."

"I hope you're right."

"Trust me, I'm the Doctor."

And Ten laughed and smacked himself in the forehead. "So it seems I lose my sense of humor along with my fashion sense next lifetime around."

"Hey, my catchphrases are cool!" Eleven argued as he skipped up the next few steps.

"Just keep telling yourself that," Ten muttered at his back.

"Blimey!" Eleven exclaimed as they stepped into the broad boot cupboard.

The room seemed to stretch off into the darkness, the walls lost in the distance, the ceiling replaced by a black void. In the center was a maelstrom of white, a tornado that was also the ghost of a woman in white, staring upwards, arms raised to the heavens as the energy crackled around her, transparent, like fog. And in middle of it all was a bright blue police box, with a St. John's Ambulance logo on the right hand door. His TARDIS.

"Hello, old girl," he said, smiling.

"Allons-y?" Ten said, with a wild, manic grin.

"Geronimo!" Eleven shouted.

* * *

Rose sat on the jump seat, swinging her legs, while Fitz chatted her up. Jack heard her laughing at him, but that didn't seem that hinder Fitz's adorable attempts at flirting. Jack recognized it for the nervous habit it was, an attempt to distract himself from a situation that seemed out of his control. He'd been there himself plenty of times.

River handed Jack his vortex manipulator with a little frown, glancing back at her own personal scanner before showing him the results.

"The barriers between the TARDISes are degrading faster then we anticipated," she said, pointing at a countdown of equations in the corner of a multidimensional diagram.

"That's a nice little piece of tech," Jack said, suitably impressed at the programs she was running.

"Designed it myself," she said with a smug little smirk that Jack thought looked very sexy on her.

"I can see why the Doctor keeps you around."

She laughed, and it sounded wild and free and full of mischief. "I think you've got that backwards, Captain," she said with a wink.

He loved it when they called him Captain. "So are you and he an item?"

A mysterious sort of smile crossed her face as her hands danced across the console. "I don't think anything with the Doctor is that simple."

"Seems simple enough for Fitz," Jack said with a shrug, trying to compare what she was doing with the console layout he was more familiar with.

She raised an eyebrow. "You think what they have is simple?" she asked, sounding a little sad. "If only you knew... Oh, Jack, you've so much to learn. But you will. You'll be one of his oldest friends one day. Maybe _the_ oldest friend."

"Really?" he said, pleased, even though something about her tone made him just a little nervous.

"Just don't think too unkindly of him," she said in all seriousness, not meeting his gaze.

He didn't know what to say to that, but was saved from having to think of a reply by two Doctors bursting into the console room with a gust of wind from the outer doors, laughing uproariously.

"And that bit with the scarf? Brilliant!" Ten said, spinning around, looking all mussed up with his jacket in tatters.

"Oh, that was nothing compared to that thing you did where you unscrewed the grating from underneath," Eleven said, brushing his unruly mop of hair from his eyes. His jacket was missing entirely and one of his red suspenders hung down at the side, making him look lopsided.

River walked up to both of them, her arms crossed, wearing a coy smile. "Having fun?"

The two Doctors looked at each other like schoolboys about to be lectured.

"Fantastic," the Ninth Doctor said sarcastically as he walked in from one of the interior doors. "How the hell did I end up here? And what have you done to the console room? It's all... shiny."


	9. Chapter 9: Going Mad

**Chapter 9: Going Mad**

* * *

Afterwards, the Eighth Doctor would barely remember the walk back to his console room, humming to himself to keep away the cold that seemed to radiate from the inside out. Something in him felt broken, and he couldn't figure out what it was. He'd given a part of himself away, again, and in its place was knowledge, and ice, and nothing else, as though he'd never feel anything again.

He checked the console, verified the readings he knew he would find, convinced himself once again. Then he stepped through the outer doors and into a console room that seemed the opposite of his. Probably on purpose, he mused. Both were large, expansive, in comparison to some of the other console layouts, but while his was dark, a gothic romance of wood and stone and candles, this was bright and gleaming, brass and glass and clean, sensual curves. He was at the top of a landing, looking down on his future, on the person he cared about most, and the ones he would care about tomorrow. Could he sacrifice all of them? Kill them all? Was that why they would all be so ashamed of him one day, because this was the sort of thing he was capable of?

"Doctor!" Fitz said, waving at him excitedly. "I was wondering where you'd wandered off to."

Fitz kept his tone casual, but the relief in his expression was obvious. He always worried about him so.

"Hello, Fitz," the Eighth Doctor said with a small smile as he walked down the stairs.

He could tell Fitz wanted to approach him, wanted to hug him, touch him, reassure himself that his Doctor was really safe. But Fitz knew his moods too well, knew _him_ too well, and so he kept his distance.

Another thing to apologize for later. Except there wouldn't be a later, and right now he was too numb to care, trapped in the sort of frightening coldness that overtook him whenever he needed to do terrible things. At the moment, the only thing that mattered to him was ending this disaster. If he died, if they all died, then so be it. Maybe it would be for the best. Maybe if he died now, then all the nightmares to come could be prevented. Either way, he had nothing left to lose.

"We can't pull the TARDISes apart," he announced as he approached the console, hands clenched tightly in his pockets.

Nine immediately approached him, with an expression of absolute loathing. "What have you done?" he spat.

"I know who's trapped in here with us," Eight went on, ignoring him, refusing to meet Nine's glare.

"It's your fault, isn't it?" Nine shouted.

"The Faction has trapped the White Guardian inside a space time causality loop, spread across our four TARDISes," Eight replied softly. "Unless we all merge into one, she'll never be able to escape."

"That would kill all of us," River argued. "And destroy three populated star systems!"

"And if we try to separate, with the power of the White Guardian holding us together, we'll tear the vortex itself apart, shattering the entire Web of Time," Eight replied.

"They told you that?" Nine growled, stepping even closer. "What sort of bargain did you make?"

Eight met his stare. "I did what I had to do."

Nine punched him in the face. Kept punching him, as the Eighth Doctor tumbled backwards to the floor, unresisting. Letting it happen. Almost welcoming it, because at least pain was a sensation he could understand. Jack and the other Doctors were on Nine in a second, struggling to pull him back as he kept attacking. Fitz was at his side, protecting him, trying to get between them, then cradling him in his arms with such tenderness as Eleven pushed Nine back and shouted at him.

The Eighth Doctor didn't bother to listen, because suddenly, in Fitz's arms, all the coldness frozen inside of him seemed to melt away. Fitz smelled of cigarettes, and Old Spice, and he felt like home.

"You're all right," Fitz said in a shaky voice, pulling the Eighth Doctor's own handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket to wipe the blood from his face. "You're gonna be all right."

He clutched Fitz, wracked with dry sobs for a moment. It felt as though a spell had been lifted, and he was finally warm again.

* * *

Fitz and the Eighth Doctor sat together on the swing under the glass floor. Fitz idly wished the girls were wearing skirts. Overhead, they all argued about stuff Fitz could never hope to understand. He simply held his Doctor's blood-spattered left hand in his lap, rocking in the swing slowly back and forth. Fitz kept biting his lip, unsure what to say.

"I'm sorry, Fitz," the Eighth Doctor said very quietly.

"Don't be," Fitz said.

Fitz simply hugged him. He was never any great at words, never great at anything, really, except maybe playing guitar. And this. Making people feel better. He was good at that, he knew it. Learned it from his mum, then perfected it after his father died, taking care of her as the madness took hold and twisted her into something ugly and unrecognizable. When she was strapped down and raving in the hospital, only he could calm her down.

The Eight Doctor sighed and leaned closer into his touch.

"I think you scared the shit out of them," Fitz said.

"I scare myself sometimes," the Eighth Doctor whispered, nuzzling against him. "More so, lately. I just... I feel like I'm becoming someone else, being dragged far away from the person I was so determined to be in this lifetime."

"Happens to all of us," Fitz replied.

"We can't! How can you even consider trusting him?" Nine shouted from above, and Fitz looked up and glared.

"Fucking nutter," Fitz muttered.

The Eighth Doctor pulled away, and looked into his eyes. "I think he has every reason to hate me, Fitz. They all do."

"But he's right," Eleven argued. "We have to bring the TARDISes together, even for just a single moment. We can't wait about here, the TARDISes are already rapidly fusing together into a big gooey mess and destabilizing this entire section of the vortex. If we can come together once, perfectly in sync, just long enough to set the White Guardian free—"

"How?" Ten asked, then shouted wordlessly in frustration. "It'll drive her mad to be in the same place at four different points in her timestream. It's driving her mad now!"

Fitz half-listened and rubbed his Doctor's back soothingly.

"They say I killed the Time Lords, Fitz," the Eighth Doctor said softly. "Every single one of them."

Fitz froze, too shocked to even breathe.

"And now I fear I'm going mad," he whimpered.

"What if one of us connects with the TARDIS, guides her through it?" River asked. "I could do it, I've flown her plenty of times."

"It has to be more than that, a much stronger connection. I think only one of us could do it," Eleven said.

Fitz looked up and saw the Doctors pacing above, like cats trapped in a cage.

"But we can't," Nine argued. "We'd all need to be piloting the TARDIS at the same time."

"I can pilot her," River offered.

"No, I'm sorry, River," Eleven said, and Fitz saw him take her hand in both of his. "All four of us need to be connected to our own TARDISes on a psychic level."

"I could do it," Fitz said suddenly, louder than he expected, and the Eighth Doctor pulled away to stare into his eyes.

Above, the conversation went deadly silent.

Fitz took a deep breath, kissed his Doctor on the temple, then left the swing to meet the rest of them upstairs. The Eighth Doctor trailed behind him, looking lost.

"I can do it," Fitz said, trying to sound brave. "You know I can. She put me back together, remade me from her memories. She knows me better than anyone else here. And she listens to me."

He tapped the side of his head. "I can hear her sometimes. We talk to each other. If anyone can guide all four of her through this, keep her calm, keep her from falling apart, it's me. And you know it."

The Eighth Doctor took his hand, but said nothing. So Fitz knew that he was right.

"It'll be dangerous, Fitz," Eleven finally said. "Even if you survive, you could burn your mind out completely. There's no guarantees."

"Naw, I'll be fine," Fiz said defiantly. "Still got all those times ahead, right, Doctors?"

"The future doesn't work like that, Fitz," Ten said sadly.

"I know," Fitz said, trying to keep from panicking and running away and hiding in the butterfly room for the rest of his life. However short that life might be.


	10. Chapter 10: Falling Together

**Chapter 10: Falling Together **

* * *

"You can't let him do this," Nine hissed at his side as the Eleventh Doctor adjusted the calculations on the console.

River looked up from where she was pulling up the final readings on her scanner, but said nothing.

Eleven glanced over at Fitz, who was talking quietly with Jack as Eight gripped his hand desperately.

His hands danced along the console, sending signals to the other TARDISes. "I'm open to any other suggestions," Eleven said harshly. "_Well_?"

Nine spoke quietly, almost a whisper. "You know what he means to me. To us."

"Did you think I'd forgotten?"

Eleven was angry at him, so angry he could barely stand to be next to him. To torture his own past incarnation with decisions he hadn't made yet, to physically attack him like some sort savage? He was ashamed, and frankly a bit alarmed, because they were rewriting time at the moment and he had no idea what would happen next.

He'd always been so fragile as Eight, so close to the edge of turning mad and wicked. A living contradiction. Often manipulative and distant without Seven's ability to plan ahead for the consequences, only to let himself get lost in regret and emotions, leading by the heart when intellect would have been a better option. And it had been such a difficult life, even before the Last Great Time War. Falling in love so easily, only to have his heart broken, yet being so willing to sacrifice the people he cared about most when he couldn't think of another solution. With a dark streak of fatalism that bordered on suicidal. He'd never been able to keep track of how many lives he'd ended in that one painful, fractured lifetime.

"I hate him," Nine said, glaring at the Eighth Doctor. "I regret everything about him."

"You hate yourself," Eleven said, meeting his blue eyes. "We all hate ourselves sometimes. It's a long, lonely life we lead. But it does get better. For a little while. In between the times we'd rather forget."

"I don't want to imagine how bad things would have been without Fitz. How much _worse_ I could have been."

Eleven sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. "We're done here. Better get back to your TARDIS. River, would you bring over the rest of the destabilizers?"

River gave him a reassuring smile and nodded, gathering them onto a corner of the console.

"I've still got mine," Nine said, taking it out of his pocket for a moment and looking at it like something deadly and disgusting before putting it away again.

Rose and Ten approached Nine, from where they'd been talking together on the swing under the platform. Eleven noticed they were holding hands.

"Soooo... We're done here, I take it?" Ten asked.

"According to this one," Nine said, scowling.

Rose gave Ten a long, lingering hug, then went over to Nine and took his hand. "Then let's go home," she said, smiling up at him.

"Jack, we're going!" Nine called out, walking up to the landing where Eight's TARDIS stood. Without saying good bye.

Eleven watched Jack hug both Fitz and Eight at once, and he smiled. Those three would have definitely had a good time together. Although packing the TARDIS with that many rampant libidos seemed a frightening prospect. He was having a hard enough time dealing with Amy Pond.

He walked up to Ten and Eleven and gave them a slightly sarcastic salute. "I take it we'll be seeing each other again soon."

"Oh, definitely, Captain," Ten said, and pulled him into a hug.

"Right, well I hate being left out," Eleven said, and hugged Jack as well.

Then Jack turned to River, who gave him a warm smile. He took her hand, and kissed it. "Take care of him, will you?"

"I always do."

"And I've been meaning to ask, is that my sonic blaster?"

She chuckled and pulled it out, spun it around like in a western movie before sliding it back in her holster in a way Eleven found surprisingly endearing. "Spoilers."

"Oh, I like her," Jack said, giving Eleven a wink, and then he was gone.

Eight and Fitz walked over, both of them looking slightly terrified. Eleven couldn't blame them. They each had so much to lose. He had distant, blurry memories of years, a century, when the idea of finding Fitz again had been the only bright spot in his life. The only thing he had to look forward to. The prospect of losing all of that scared Eleven more than he wanted to admit.

Ten took River's hands in his for a moment, eyes shining. Eleven looked away and tried not to remember what it felt like to lose her, chained and helpless as she sacrificed herself for their future together. The future he was currently enjoying.

"River..." Ten said very softly.

"I'll see you soon, my love," she said with a sad, knowing smile.

Then she kissed him on the cheek, catching the corner of his mouth with her own. Eleven tried not to feel jealous. A smile crept over Ten's face, almost despite himself. River handed him a destabilizer, and he slipped it in his pocket without a word, as though unsure of what to say next.

Instead he turned to Fitz and Eight, as they stood holding hands, gripping them each by the shoulder. "Take care of each other, all right?"

Eight nodded, his expression unreadable.

"Always," Fitz said, and squeezed Eight's hand a little tighter.

Ten finally met Eleven's gaze, and held out his hand, their handshake much warmer than Eleven had expected. "So you're the man who's going to go gallivanting off after I'm gone?" Ten said with a wry grin.

"Quite a promising replacement, if I say so myself," Eleven said, matching his smile.

Ten chuckled, and left.

And then it was just the four of them. Eleven looked at Fitz and Eight sadly. "Don't be so hard on yourself," the Eleventh Doctor said in a very soft voice.

"So it's true," the Eighth Doctor whispered. "All of it. The terrible things I'm going to do. This fate I can't escape."

"Yeah," Eleven said, because this was one time he couldn't bring himself to lie.

* * *

The Eighth Doctor held the metal crown up, staring at it grimly. Fitz watched him, absolutely terrified, desperately hoping the Doctor would take it all back. Tell him this was too dangerous. Try to talk him out of it.

But he didn't. Instead, he placed the circlet on Fitz's head, wires trailing. Fitz sat in the Doctor's usual high-backed armchair, which had been pulled up close to the console. It felt incongruously normal, considering he was just about to have his mind blown away by four god-like entities with the ability to travel through time and space. All at the same time.

"Fitz..." the Doctor whispered, looking into his eyes, as though there was so much he wanted to say, but couldn't trust himself to say it.

Fitz knew the feeling. "Good luck, Doctor."

The Doctor kissed him once, very lightly on the lips. A chaste gesture that almost felt like goodbye. Fitz tried very hard not to freak out.

Then the Doctor went back to the console and pulled a switch.

Reality splintered all around him. Fitz shattered into pieces. Everywhere and nowhere, the TARDIS, every TARDIS, coursing through him as one. Touching the past, and the future, everything all at once. Being created on Gallifrey, bonded to the Time Lords, an omniscient entity born a slave. Liberty, and affection, broken free from her restraints to travel anywhere she wished, with the Doctor, always the Doctor. So many people drifting in and out of her. Putting Fitz back together again, pouring a bit of her soul into him, creating a cascade of possible Fitz's that rippled across time. Nearly dying, and being reborn across a century. Completely alone, with Gallifrey lost. Then undoing all of it, only to have history repeat itself. A devastating war that made the first one seem civilized, tumbling saucers raining fire from the burnt orange sky, destruction and chaos, a vicious, brutal, timeless war that ended with a billion voices silenced all at once, leaving her, leaving both of them, truly alone once again. Taking Rose and making her infinite, then bringing the curse of eternal life. And feeling such revulsion every time Jack touched her afterwards. An endless explosion that shattered everything, tearing apart the cosmos, unraveling every star, only to bring it all back again.

And now this. Now she was falling together, merging and melding and losing herself, and it terrified her, drove her insane. So Fitz comforted her, like he had his poor mad mum for as long as he could remember, like he held the Doctor when it all became too much for him. Embracing the agony and the chaos, letting it pour into his mind. He took the cosmic soul of the TARDIS into himself, and he made her feel better, although the pain that coursed through him was like nothing he could ever have imagined.

She felt so grateful for his presence.

* * *

He held Rose's hand as the Ninth Doctor spun around the console, sparks dancing from the controls.

"Jack, I need you!" the Doctor shouted, scowling.

He turned to Rose, who looked up at him, eyes full of fear. Jack kissed her, a quick, light gesture, meant to reassure both of them. But they were out of time, the walls of the console room seeming to melt into the distance, and he ran to join the Doctor.

"Keep the transduction levels stable, like I showed you!"

"Yes, sir," Jack said, grabbing the twin knobs and turning them until the chaotic jumble of lines coming from the oscillator display began to resemble something close to a steady line.

Suddenly a beam of light began to appear in the center column, glowing and growing until both Jack and the Doctor were forced to step back from the sudden pulsating radiance.

Jack looked around, and time seemed suddenly frozen. He saw the Tenth Doctor, backing away with his hands up, as though trying to block the blazing radiance, saw Eleven and River holding hands, saw Eight wearing a fatalistic expression, palms outstretched in something like acceptance, as behind him Fitz was caught in mid-convulsion, tumbling to the floor, his pretty face twisted with agony.

Then the beam of light transformed into a figure, both male and female, ethereal and eternal, all powerful and suddenly free. The whiteness spread, encompassing them all.

* * *

Eep! I know, right? I was on the edge of my seat writing this. I've got a concluding chapter/epilogue to post tomorrow, and then this story will finally be out of my head and into yours, heh. But it's only the start. So much more of the Fitzverse to come. Hope you've enjoyed this little journey. Please tell me what you think—reviews make me very happy!


	11. Epilogue: Death & Destruction & Madness

**Epilogue: Death and Destruction and Madness **

* * *

That crushing numbness had overtaken him again as he carried Fitz and laid him gently on the couch they usually cuddled up together in while reading. Like they had the night before. He couldn't feel a pulse, couldn't hear him breath, and couldn't help but feel a twisted twinge of gratitude that Fitz would no longer have to face the angel of death he would one day become.

The Eighth Doctor kissed Fitz very softly on the lips, then pulled away. He let out a long, shuddering sigh.

"He isn't gone," said a musical voice behind him.

He turned to see the White Guardian, in female form, wearing a long, flowing gown of white and a circlet of feathers on her head. She leaned forward to touch Fitz. Long, dark lashes fluttered, and suddenly Fitz's soft grey eyes were staring at him. Fitz sat up all at once, gasping, shivering, and the Doctor held him and cried a few scattered tears of relief.

"Fitz..."

He chuckled weakly. "Nice to see you too, Doc."

"Come to me, Doctor. I'll let you forget."

He released Fitz, standing up to face the White Guardian, feeling undeserved of her attention at the moment.

"What, is this what you're doing to everyone?" Fitz said, getting up, sounding horrified. "Stealing their bloody memories because you think that's what's best for us mere mortals?"

She said nothing.

"Don't let her, Doctor," Fitz said, standing at his side. "It's better to know, isn't it? Better to realize what you're facing."

The Doctor looked at him very sadly, and a little ashamed. "If my fate is to become the destroyer of worlds, then at least allow me the illusion of freedom. Of choice."

Fitz gripped his shoulder. "There's always a choice. You taught me that."

He stepped away from Fitz, looking into her pale, silvery eyes. "I'm sorry, Fitz."

"Then let _me_ remember," Fitz said, standing between him and the Guardian. "Let me help him. I'll keep the Doctor's secrets. I'll remember for both of us."

"One day you will," she said very sadly. "His burdens will be yours, if you are strong enough to carry them. But the moment hasn't come yet."

"I'm ready right now," Fitz argued, defiant. The Doctor felt very proud of him at that moment.

"No, you aren't," she said, and smiled. "But that's never stopped you before."

She touched his temple. The Doctor caught Fitz in his arms as he collapsed. He laid him back down on the couch and turned to her.

"Thank you," the Doctor whispered as she reached for him.

* * *

He woke up on the couch with the Doctor curled against him. Fitz yawned. A strange sound crept through his mind, like a remix of the TARDIS dematerializing and the ringing after a long night at a club. Accompanied by a dull throbbing headache, of course. Fitz contained the overwhelming urge to stretch so as to not disturb the Doctor, who was whimpering in his sleep. Another one of his nightmares.

Actually, the whole console room looked like a nightmare, now that he actually paid attention. It was dark, far darker then normal, acrid smoke drifting faintly near the ceiling, which was currently projecting the familiar swirls of the vortex. The Doctor looked pretty bad himself, the left hand pressed against his chest covered in dried blood, looking as though he'd been in a bar fight.

The Doctor's swollen eyes fluttered open, staring straight at Fitz with a manic intensity.

"I've had a terrible dream," the Doctor muttered, stroking Fitz's cheek, then staring at the dried blood that flaked onto his fingertips. "Was it real?"

Fitz held him, pressing the Doctor's head against his chest, calming him. "Shhh... It's all right. Just a dream."

The Doctor curled against him, more asleep then awake. "It was terrible Fitz. I killed you. I killed so many people. Nothing but destruction."

He began to weep quietly against Fitz's chest. "I dreamt of madness, and I was the angel of death, and I did terrible, terrible things. To you, to everyone."

Fitz held his lover, his best friend, until the Doctor slipped back into sleep. Fitz shivered, and he couldn't stop. The tears had begun to dry on his own cheeks before he realized he'd been crying.

* * *

Up next is Upside Down In Venice! The amusing, romantic, and tragic tale of how the Doctor came to owe Casanova a chicken. Crossover with David Tennant's Casanova. Already posted and waiting for you, dear readers.


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